Bicycle Ride
May 30, 2009 by hames-1977
Father, I remember-
waiting for you
on my birthday
And they say,
you’ll bring home
a present like
what other boys have.
I wish of a little toy
I will ride along
in the neighborhood.
And try to belong.
Father, I forgot
how long-
I have chased
the speed of days,
counting roosters
that have crowed
at dawn break.
All the hope
that have died
and buried inside. I forgot
the tears that have dried.
Father, quite still-
there are images
of trees I forgot to climb.
Of kites I did not flown.
Of baseball gloves
I did not put on.
Of the nursery rhymes,
left unsung. I slept-
as the world turns
of bedtime stories
unheard. I have grown.
Father, see me now-
how everyday, I wake up.
And struggle to balance
like a weighing scale.
The drudgery
of riding big toys
through the alleyway
of this wild world.
As I left skid marks,
deeply scarred
the innocence of this boy.
This is compelling, Marvin! And moving, too.
This is the kind of poem I could have written and told my father. In fact, in one of our conversations as grown up, I expressed similar sentiments : he never taught me how to ride a bike, play basketball, fly kites. He never was a father to me in many ways when I was growing.
I was left alone to learn life, to get the bruises trying to learn to ride a bike by myself. Those bruises healed but I never learned. Riding a bicycle and playing basketball are things I never learned growing up - my insecurities and feeling of inferiority around my playmates drove me to my room to draw, to sketch, to write stories and compose poetry in my head. Often, I blame my father for not being there. But now, I thank him for being distant, for it brought me closer to myself, to my passion, to my soul.
Wherever he may be right now, I wish he look down to see I found my way.
I wish you well.
~ Jeques
jeques,
some parts of this poem, i actually made reference from your experience as a child and the way i understood how your father has been distant to you. in some way, mine is quite a parallel too. but now i came to understand that fathers, as they are, are trying to hold back their emotions and expression of affection towards their male children.
they need to project how strong they are, but unknowingly, they think about us too, tell a bit of appreciation towards us in a snippet to a colleague or a friend.
i am trying to explore another poetic style, trying not to be too much confessional, but rather internalize another person talking, who might have a different view on how they perceive life as a whole.
by observing, the direction i am taking now in writing would be less focused on the self, but i rather delve deep into topics which has nothing to do with my personal life or my present circumstances. i would assume other people’s circumstances as a new source for a writing material.
in a way, i also thank you for encouraging me to press on into writing more and i think i have progressed a lot better now. i wonder, when can i read some of your poetry material? since you have gone painting already, don’t you think its high time that some of your ideas should be put into written word?
cheers,
marvin
an intruder, that’s what i am, well that is how i feel reading thoughts of the opposite gender…
i could choose to just read and not say a thing but you write so beautifully that i can not be here and not say a word…
the words i want to leave?- “a man who writes so well, probably came from a father who knew too well….”
..on the writing style…assuming other people’s circumstances…i’ve been thinking of that for quite sometime now…that writing makes us in a way actors…gathering the emotions, piling them up inside our mind down to our chest until the pain, the sorrow, the happiness or the rage escapes through our hands, into the keyboard and into the monitor…..into the heart of a reader…
i am a fan and i wish you well,
sunsetzens
zen,
you were never an intruder. and gender is nothing to do with the love for written words. poets are bound to this connection- a passion for expression.
i am humbled with your assessment to my writing style, although i am trying my best to hone more my creative writing skills. you are free to say whatever you want to say as my writing prompted you. i welcome even if you disagree with the ideas i am presenting in here. i would want a mirror to tell me which areas i need to improve on.
your comment is filled with wisdom. to say that my father knows too well, is a statement that i can agree with you. my father writes better than i am. he is my critic and grammarian. if not for his criticism, i should have not press on to prove to him that i can be capable of express myself and be understood.
i agree with you, that writers as we are, sometimes, we have to assume other roles, such as an actor. we internalize emotions until we are in the character to execute them and in the process, we also, understand.
we will continue writing to enrich our life experiences. by the way, being a poet, such as we are, makes us a better person with a better understanding.
cheers,
marvin